


How Many Times Must I Scream Your Name?

by teenybirdy



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/F, Fluff and Smut, PWP, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 04:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21093578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenybirdy/pseuds/teenybirdy
Summary: Two woman daydream until their dreams become a reality





	How Many Times Must I Scream Your Name?

The feeling of Miranda's tongue against my neck, her pussy twitching around my fingers is unbelievably good. I simply can't resist the call of the woman writhing against me, her hips bucking with the rhythm of my twisting fingers.

Gazing at the beauty below me, I smile, then trail kisses down her neck before I bite down on the flickering pulse point and suck the skin between my lips, marking her as mine.

Miranda's moans are like music to my ears. The smell of her skin is intoxicating to me as I lick and kiss my way down to her nipples.

The editor is so wet for me and her soft, breathless whimpers, as I finger her, are so different from the usual acerbic tones that come from her mouth. I press my thumb against her clit, wanting to make her unravel, needing to have her call my name in that particular way she has.

My eyes fall shut and I continue to thrust inside her, hitting the little sweet spot that has her arching into my touch.

"Ahn-drey-aaaah." Ah, there it is. My name, so distinctive, so beautifully annunciated, in a way no other person ever has.

I open my eyes and I'm no longer in the king-sized bed, making love to the woman that haunts my dreams. My panties are drenched and I have to squeeze my thighs together.

"Ahn-drey-aaaah." Miranda sounds impatient as she drawls my name. "Really, how many times must I scream your name?" The voice is like a Siren's call and I look up.

I feel my lips twitching in the hint of a smirk as I consider what my beautiful boss would do if I answer her as I wish? What would Miranda Priestly do, if I tell her I can have her screaming my name until she has no voice left?

I gaze at the woman and offer her my brightest smile. It wouldn't do to let her know of the inappropriate desire that has taken my focus from my work. "Yes, Miranda?" My voice holds a husky quality that perhaps tells my secret after-all.

"Coffee." Miranda's voice has softened slightly and I see her step towards her office door and lean against the frame gracefully, crossing her arms with her eyebrow raised.

God, she's so beautiful.

Standing quickly, I grab my jacket and purse, scoop my new cell up off my desk and offer her a small nod before heading for the elevator.

I think of the letter of resignation I have in my purse. It's been there since my first week at Runway when in a fit of despair, I scrawled it out hurriedly, believing Miranda would give me no choice but to quit. How wrong was I?

As I step out into the cold autumn evening and start to walk quickly towards the nearest Starbucks. My thoughts continually flicker to the events in Paris, just a few weeks before, when in a moment of pure madness I practically told Miranda to fuck herself and tossed my cell into one of The Fontaines de la Concorde.

I know why I'm dreaming of Miranda. Seeing her in Paris, her grey silk robe falling off the one pale, slender shoulder, her eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable, was like a punch in the chest. That night I felt such a fierce need to protect the usually stoic woman and to ease her obvious pain and distress, but she would not allow it, believing that my compassion, empathy and desire to help was just a form of pity.

The realisation of my feelings hurt me, although upon reflection it shouldn't have. I pushed Nate's words away on that fateful night he walked out from our relationship. I thought his claim that Miranda and I were in a relationship was absurd.

But after the events of the night with Christian and the following day, which pushed me to the brink of madness, came the knowledge that I was irrevocably in love with my boss, a woman double my age, who would never see me as anything but a lowly assistant.

At that moment, while I watched my cell drop into the water, I knew I had made the biggest mistake of my life. But if Miranda has taught me anything, it was that I could achieve the impossible.

I returned to Miranda that cloudy afternoon, making various excuses and somehow stopped myself from telling her the truth, that my heart and soul belongs to her alone and I want to prove that unlike Stephen, I can last the distance.

I may be seen as a miracle worker and fearless in the face of the Dragon, but I'm not that stupid.

Walking into Starbucks, I catch the eye of the usual barista and she turns away to get my usual coffee order immediately, throwing me a small wink. She knows who I work for, and how important it is that the coffee is searing hot and doesn't arrive at a glacial pace.

Miranda is a well-known figure in New York. There is a lot of speculation about her and a lot of half-truths. Many know she seeks perfection and they aren't surprised she has quirks. She is a genius in her world after all.

The barista is beautiful. Courtney is 5'7" with flowing blonde hair and green eyes. She asked me out a few weeks ago but I can't see what we'd have in common, plus there's the fact Miranda takes up my every spare minute.

The walk back to Elias Clarke, with my tray of coffee, seems to take forever, though I've been gone no more than ten minutes.

Stepping into the elevator, I almost collide with Irv Ravitz. He offers me a simpering smile that makes my skin crawl.

"Hello, beautiful Andy. How are you doing?"

This is the new greeting I've received since that day I knocked furiously on his suite door, interrupting his meeting with Miranda, trying to warn her of his ploy to remove her from Runway.

I feel the frown forming on my forehead as I contemplate ignoring the old bastard.

"I'm fine. Busy, busy." I try for nonchalance.

"What do you want from life, Andy?" To say I'm surprised by the question is an understatement, but I don't know how to tell him what I want. Things have changed so much in the last nine months.

I shrug. "I like what I do now. It's challenging and no two days are the same."

"Oh," Irv is disappointed by my answer but tries to hide it. When he steps closer, I only just stop the shudder at his proximity. "I heard you wanted to be a journalist? You know, I could help with that, whisper a few words in ears, for a favour in return." His smarmy smile sets my teeth on edge.

"Thank you, but I am not in a position to return a favour," I mutter.

He must think I'm dense if he thinks I don't know what he wants. I have seen numerous young women come and go from their position as his assistant. The only person who matched such a turnover of staff, and not for the same reason, is Miranda.

"I'm sure I could think of something." Irv leers at me, his eyes raking over my chest.

Frankly, I'm disgusted. I close my eyes and pray fervently that the elevator will magically arrive on Level 17, my sanctuary.

A tense thirty seconds pass until I hear the elevator ding and start to thank every God I can think of that the torture of being alone with Irv is over. Unable to stop myself, I move forward quickly to place myself out of his reach.

Before exiting the elevator fully, something comes over me and I spin on my heel and speak my unfiltered thoughts. "Thank you for the kind offer of a recommendation, but no, thank you. I know I'll receive the reference I deserve, once I leave Runway, so any _assistance _from you will be quite unnecessary."

"I could blacklist you as quickly as I could help you." Irv splutters the threat.

I find I don't care. Turning away, I shrug before glancing over my shoulder at him. "If that means I don't have to touch your shrivelled little dick, so be it."

I can't believe I just said that. Oh fuck. And it's just my luck, Miranda is walking past as I almost shout the words at him.

I catch sight of her small smirk, so fleeting it could be my imagination. She's quick to school her features to the usual mask of indifference. I take a deep breath as she stalls beside me. "I assume you must be finding your assistants lacking if you have to accost mine in such a way."

"Miranda, I..." I want to explain, to apologise but she holds her hand up to stall my words.

A red-faced Irv Ravitz knows he's finally been caught out. If I know Miranda, and I do, she will hand his balls to the board on a silver platter.

"Andréa, I will not have you apologise for this man's disrespect of you. I insist you take this matter to Human Resources immediately. Sexual Harassment is very much frowned upon by the company." Miranda takes me by the elbow and uses her free hand to extract one of the coffees.

She has never touched me before and my skin tingles where her palm is wrapped around my bare arm. It is all I can do to make my feet move as she leads me back into the elevator and presses gestures for me to press the button Level 20.

Shit, she wants me at Human Resources, right now. Maybe it's time I used my resignation and quit. How bad could things get, seriously?

After a momentary silence, Miranda asks a question that leaves me stunned, more than Irv's question had just a few minutes before. "You wish to write if I recollect?"

"Uh, I dunno." I feel the sweat forming on my upper lip. Miranda's full attention is on me as I clutch the cardboard coffee holder firmly.

The elevator dings again and I watch Irv step around Miranda, careful not to touch her, and skedaddle away from us quickly.

"Shame. I heard there was a position at some newspaper that may have been a suitable starting point." Her lips purse. "Far more suitable than Runway, in as much as I have sent them a recommendation, along with your resume and the samples of the work you provided when you interviewed."

"Miranda, I..." I can't believe it. I haven't even seen my year out and here's Miranda, offering me something she's offered no one else in all her years as Editor-in-Chief.

"No, no. Not one argument from you. You will interview at The Mirror Monday at 9:30 am and will be back at your desk by noon. If you believe couture is not suitable for your interview you can dress down for the afternoon. I shall allow you to work in jeans or you can change into something more _Runway_ upon your return."

I don't know what to say. I sense Miranda's pleasure at her manoeuvrings. "What if I don't want to be a journalist? What if I want to stay here." I whisper, barely omitting the _"with you"._

I glance at her and see her frown, her usually smooth forehead crinkling adorably. I can't stop my sigh and tell myself not to raise my hand and smooth the lines out with my thumb.

"Andréa, I think we need to talk. I am only going to say this once, so you better be listening." She arches an eyebrow and I nod. What else can I do? "When you leave here, I wish to see you outside of our professional relationship." Miranda fidgets almost nervously. "You must understand that you have to leave."

My smile blossoms as I gaze at her wonderingly. "I must be dreaming again."

"No, not a dream." Miranda's smile was brief but took my breath away. "I hoped you would understand and perhaps with time, come to return my sentiments."

"Wow." I can't take my eyes off her. If I do I may wake up and find out it's all just another figment of my over-active imagination.

I see Miranda close her eyes and her breath catches. She squares her shoulders as if coming to a decision. When the elevator announces its arrival and the doors open, she presses the button for Level 17 and the ground floor and smirks as people step away from the doors at the sight of her.

I have so many questions, but I can't break the rules. I watch her send a text and sip her coffee before she sighs in exasperation, her patience has run its course.

"You may speak to me, you know." She states quietly.

The elevator stops just as I'm opening my mouth to speak and Nigel and Emily stand at the doors of the elevator. Nigel steps forward to enter the space and I notice how their eyes have widened at the sight of us.

Miranda steps forward and I'm amazed to see her push Nigel from the metal box, her hand placed firmly on his chest. She snatches her coat from Emily's hands and glares at them, daring either of them to say something before the doors close.

Neither one of them dares.

"H.R?" I query.

"It can wait until Monday," Miranda tells me. "Irving knows he has stepped out of line."

"Can I see you tonight?" The thought leaves my mouth, catching me unaware. I'd had no idea that's what I wanted to ask.

"It is my weekend with the twins." Miranda cast an apologetic look my way, letting me know she wasn't just saying that to get out this strange situation.

I know her schedule better than she does and can't stop my smile. "I know. I thought I may take the three of you out for dessert."

"Dessert?" Miranda seems pleased by the idea, especially of sharing time with her daughters. "I'm sure my Bobbsey's would like that very much." She looks at me thoughtfully. "You will come for dinner."

"The book?" I gape at her in surprise as she chuckles lightly.

"Emily has decided to give you a night off." Miranda continues to smirk.

I can't help myself and whisper a little thank you for the unexpected gesture. She watches me and I wonder what she is thinking.

"Why is it I find you as captivating as you seem to find me?" Miranda asks. She bites her lip as if she's said something she wishes she hadn't. I'm glad it's not just me that has that problem. "No one has ever looked at me the way you do."

I laugh joyfully as the elevator lands on the ground floor. I let Miranda leave the elevator, my eyes focused on the sway of her hips as she stalks across the foyer.

Holy shit! Miranda Priestly wants a non-professional relationship with me. What the fuck does that even mean?

**~x~**

"I looked into your eyes and became mesmerised by the storm I found in them." Andréa's soft voice grabs my attention as she slipped into the car beside me. I questioned this thing between us without thought and the answer stuns me.

Just a few moments before, I spotted the surprise in Andréa's hazel eyes when I had taken the coffee tray from her hands and thrust it at Roy, advising him to dispose of the contents, but now those eyes express joy but also nervousness.

I am very much aware of my faults. I know I can be cold and calculating, I express my sentiments concisely and often without consideration. There is one thing stopping my usual behaviour with Andréa, the wish to be gentler with this beautiful young woman so I don't see her pain. She has a pure heart and it troubles me to think I have wounded it by words uttered with casual cruelty.

Paris opened my eyes to my feelings for my assistant, but I pushed them down, believing I was simply being a silly old fool. I tried to push them away entirely, but it was of no use. Andréa has somehow, by some miracle, worked her way into my heart.

Seeing Andréa that afternoon, sat being her desk with a glorious blush lighting up her cheeks, my breath caught. I was newly amazed by the raw beauty of her and the desire reflected in her dark eyes. It was clear she was in no way fixated on her work and I found myself wondering what had caught her attention so thoroughly.

Then I heard it, the whimper of my name, uttered so breathlessly that hope flared in my breast. I once told Andréa I lived on hope but until that moment I have never felt it as strongly.

I must stop thinking of Paris and the way the brunette whispered my name so sensuously. I need to focus and spend this little time to work out what to say to my Bobbsey's about this new...

I don't even know what to call it.

...development...

...relationship...

I want a relationship, but I have concerns.

Does Andréa even want the same?

What will Caroline and Cassidy think?

Will they even accept Andréa?

I'm fairly certain they were the cause for that trip she took up the stairs that night she first brought the book, although Andréa has never admitted to such a thing and my darling daughters wouldn't dream of throwing themselves under the bus.

I can feel Andréa's eyes on me. She does this thing, where she watches me as if she is learning all my secrets, and although she doesn't know it, she is closer to knowing me better than anyone that has come before her.

I have imagined taking the time to have long conversations with her, where she listens intently as I tell her all my thoughts, the random, fleeting musings that crowd my brain. I believe she can be the one to truly know me, who can love me in my slight madness and who won't judge me for it.

The journey home is blessedly smooth and I know the twins will be watching for the car. They know I will be home and as usual, I am unable to stop my small grin when they charge down the stoop towards it.

Stepping from the car, I am surprised when I am not swept into their little arms and watching the whirlwind of movement, understand why when I see where my daughters have run to.

I observe a moment that makes my heart soar.

Caroline and Cassidy wrap their arms around Andréa and they chatter ten to a dozen, filling her in on all the small details since they last saw one another. I am stunned when Andréa asks each of my girls pointed questions as they walk towards me, it shows she has an intimate knowledge of their lives.

How has this occurred?

We head up to the living room, where Cara has coffee and juice waiting. Seeing Andréa, she apologises and rushes off to bring another cup for her, despite the small protestations from the younger woman for her not to trouble herself.

I believe I perhaps I should have warned Cara that Andréa would be joining us for dinner, though knowing our Nanny turned Housekeeper, they will be plenty to go around and then some.

As I expected, Cara brushes my concerns away as if they are nothing, with an airy wave of her hand, and places a coffee in front of Andréa with a smile.

"How was your day, mommy? Cassidy asks when Cara has left the room.

"Quite satisfactory, Bobbsey." I offer my youngest by twenty-two minutes a smile.

"You promised not to call me that in the presence of any company." Cassidy blushes and looks mortified as she glances toward Andréa pointedly.

I have always called by precious girls, Bobbsey. It is the only nickname I can countenance, although they call one another a shortened variation of their names. It is quite true I told them I would not call them Bobbsey in front of their friends, I simply never expected them to class Andréa as such.

I look towards the young woman, who has an almost identical little girl attached to either side of her and see her biting her lip, trying to hold back her laughter. Her amusement at Cassidy telling me off is clear in her eyes.

"Andréa is not just any company, Cassidy," I advise lightly.

It is Caroline who picks up on the words. "Isn't she?" They have never heard me say that about a person before.

I roll my eyes. "Andréa is a friend, to us all it seems."

My girl's take that at face value, although I see their eyes meet and it seems as if they hold a silent conversation in the few seconds that pass.

"How was your day, Andy?" Caroline asks.

"Long and tiring, for us both. But we managed to get through it." Andréa replied with a grin.

I hear Cara's soft voice calling for the twins to wash up for dinner and smile at their small groans as they untangle themselves from Andréa and rush from the room. They are like a small herd of elephants as they bound back down the stairs.

Standing, I hold my hand out to Andréa and she takes it gingerly. When I lace our fingers and tug her to her feet, her smile is almost blinding. I take my time leading her to the kitchen, basking in the experience of having her hand in mine. It fits well and offers me a sense of security I never expected.

Dinner is full of loud talk and laughter as we enjoy the meal. Andréa and my girls talk over each other and my heart feels light. Andréa speaks rather eloquently of how the friendship grew between her and my daughters. From playing small pranks on her and then the whispered questions when their curiosity got the better of them as she continued to drop the book off.

I am pleased my concerns were for nought and I see Andréa likes my Bobbsey's very much. They seem to be happy to accept her into our home, something they usually struggle with.

When dessert is mentioned, the twins decide against it, with claims they are tired, but they somehow extract a promise from Andréa that they can go for ice cream over the weekend. She looks at me, notices my smile and happily agrees.

After dinner, Cassidy and Caroline settle in the entertainment room to play their Xbox and I lead Andréa, by the hand, to my study. Letting go, I gesture to the sitting area and move to pour us a glass of wine from the small bar in the corner.

I am grateful my twins haven't questioned me too much about Andréa's unexpected presence in our home as I didn't feel like talking about it. Whatever it is.

My panic rises.

I hate this, the not knowing.

What am I to Andréa?

Sitting in the corner of the love seat under the small windows that overlooks my small back garden, I pat the seat next to me and Andréa slides closer.

I am in no way inclined to work any further tonight.

I need to know what's on Andréa's mind.

I want to know what makes her tick.

After a few minutes sat in silence, I turn slightly and find her watching me.

"Tell me about this afternoon," I ask. "I called your name three times and yet got no response."

Andréa's face turns Crimson and she covers her face with her hands. I can sense her unease but then she moves her hands and glances at me and I see the desire in her eyes. She begins to speak softly, her words, creating vivid images in my mind.

I want her, more than I have ever wanted anything.

I want to love her.

I swear I will make her mine now I know she wants this as much as I.

I am affected by her words, the aching urgency in her voice as she spoke of her need for me.

When the tale ends, I pull Andréa close and let her head fall against my shoulder. We both just take the time to breathe. It feels utterly wonderful to be cuddled up like this. It is rather peaceful. I settle my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes and sigh.

When I find myself in my bedroom, hovering over Andréa, I can't say I mind. This is very much like the dreams that haunt my sleep each night, but it is different. I can now breathe in the scent of macadamia and honey on her skin. Andréa smells like a delicious crème brûlée. It is mouthwatering and I ache to taste her.

I lift Andréa's face and kiss her. It is the most perfect kiss I have ever experienced, with her full lips tempting me to deepen our contact. I stare down at the gorgeous woman below me in awe.

How is it we are now naked?

Never mind. I am grateful for this opportunity. I never believed it could happen.

Andréa's chest is flushed and her eyes are dark with desire for me.

For me.

How very strange and thrilling.

Andréa's breasts are nice and firm. My hand reaches and find they are a good handful and not overly large. They are tipped with dusky pink nipples that I desire to take in my mouth.

I do so and hear her moan as she arches into me. I bite down gently at first then with increasing pressure until she moans my name and trembles against me.

I have never had anyone react to my touch the way Andréa has. I never believed I could have someone climax against me just from the touch of my lips. Then again, Andréa is not just anyone. She has responded to me since that first day in my office. I have been aware of it, even if I refused to think of it.

I feel myself growing wet, my desire for this woman roars through me like a tornado. Without thinking, I slip my hand between us and massage my throbbing clit.

Oh dear Lord, I need more.

I slip two fingers into myself and start thrusting.

I catch the sound of Andréa's ragged breathing and open my eyes to look at her. I wish she would be brave and take my hand to replace it with her own. It is her touch I crave. It is her touch that will send me spiralling into my climax.

Andréa moans my name under her breath as if she doesn't want me to hear how affected she is. I move my fingers in and out slowly, my hips bucking against Andréa's body. I feel her desire coating my thigh and then it happens.

I shatter into a million pieces, calling her name hoarsely as I climax. "Ahn-drey-aaaah."

I hear Andréa offer soothing words and allow my eyes to open. We are no longer in my bed but on the loveseat and I find myself disappointed by that, although I am wrapped securely in strong arms.

"It's okay, Miranda. I'm here." How like Andréa to think I m trembling from some untold nightmare. How very like her to want to soothe that distress.

I pull away, trying to catch my breath and face her.

Andréa's eyes hold warmth and gentleness and I find myself enraptured once again. It somersaults me back to those moments in Paris, where she saw me at my most unguarded.

She deserves better than me, but I am too selfish to let her go and so, I do something unheard of.

I explain.

I describe how my dreams bring her to me, into my bed. I reveal how they unfold, with me opening up for her. I whisper words about how disappointed I am when I wake alone, still feeling the whisper of her touch. I advise her of how my heart pounds for her and feeling the overpowering urge to prove it, take her hand and hold it between my breasts to show her.

She needs to grasp just how much her presence affects me because this is the reason she must leave my Runway.

I glance up into her eyes and see her delight at my words. Once again her smile makes my breath away. I see she understands that our relationship will be different from now on. How could it not?

To give her some time to consider everything, I stand and tell her I must put my daughters to bed. I am hopeful she will wait for me to do what I must, to settle my children for the night, and then...

...well, I suppose we can make plans for the future.

I smile as I leave the room. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I shall get my first real kiss from her.

**~x~**

The sound of the front door has me jumping and in my clumsiness, I knock my wine glass over and it falls to the floor loudly.

"Who's there?" Emily calls out softly. I mutter a low curse under my breath. "Miranda?" I hear the click of heels on the foyer outside the study but don't answer.

Kneeling, I start to mop the wine up with the tissues off Miranda's desk and hope she just goes away. Surely she won't be stupid enough to make her way in here.

Just as the door starts to open, I catch Miranda's voice and she does not sound pleased. "Emily, what do you think you are doing?"

"Um, well, there was a noise and..." Emily sounds like she's about to start hyperventilating.

"It is the cat," Miranda says.

"Th...the cat?" Emily sputters. "But you're allergic."

"I did not say it was mine. Though I may decide to keep it." Miranda's tone is teasing, but I know Emily won't hear it. "Oh, and Emily...the book belongs on the table with the flowers. That's all."

I hear Emily's quick steps and the slight thud of the book being dropped on the table before the front door whispers open and then closed.

I sit back on my heels and wonder what will happen now. I suppose I shall be dismissed for the evening. The thought scares me.

What if this night is all Miranda and I have?

It doesn't bear thinking about.

Miranda walks into the room and offers me a small smile though it falters. She must see the fear in my eyes.

Coming towards me quickly, she takes the wet tissues and throws them. In a small waste bin beside her desk. And then she kneels in front of me and searches my face.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Miranda laughs and continues to gaze at me. I somehow know she is not laughing at me.

"Do not be scared, Andréa. Accidents happen, and facing Emily can be hard." Miranda smiled. "It will have to happen one day though if we wish to continue with this, but only when you are ready."

"I am ready." I want to reassure Miranda. "I just don't want to put you in a position that disturbs you."

"Disturbs me? You do no such thing." Miranda says. "I just spoke to my Bobbsey's about this, and although they are surprised they seem happy." She cups my cheek. "They wish to know if you will be here for breakfast."

"I can come back for breakfast." I smile happily until Miranda frowns and turns her eyes away.

I suddenly understand she wants me to stay.

Miranda returns her gaze to me. "You may stay if you like."

I can't quite believe my ears. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Miranda is firm.

I'm stunned. I thought Miranda would need wooing within an inch of her life and was prepared to go the distance for the chance to be with her. And yet, here she is, offering me all I desire.

Miranda stands gracefully and extends her hand to me and I take it. I love how her smaller hand fits in mine. I let her tug me to my feet and lead me upstairs.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" The question comes unbidden from my lips.

Miranda stays silent for a minute. "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

I don't answer. This is not my first rodeo with the same sex, but Miranda is unlike any woman I have met before.

Instead, once we reach the master suite, I turn Miranda to face me and cup her cheeks in my palms. I look into her eyes and speak from the heart. "Because I do not want to rush you if you need more time." I sigh. "I will give you all the time you need." I mean it too. If being with Miranda means waiting, I will do it.

"Andréa, I have to admit I've had quite a little crush on you for almost a year. But how could I tell you? You must have realised how I've checked you out each morning as I enter the office? My feelings aren't new, darling, but it wasn't until today that I allowed myself to hope."

I look down and stay silent.

Miranda lifts my face and smiles, and then she kisses me and I can't stop myself from kissing her back.

It's not a perfect kiss by any means. My nose bumps against Miranda's and I have to tilt my head slightly. But somehow, even if it is clumsy, it feels so right. Her fingers comb through my hair and my hands rise to follow her lead. The moment is soft and gentle.

It is the best first kiss I have ever had and I want to kiss this woman for the rest of my life. Although it is not a perfect kiss, practice makes perfect, right?

Miranda moans breathlessly and I feel myself being pushed back as she trails kisses down my jaw and neck. She pulls my blouse free from my trousers then unbuttons it quickly. Her breath grazes over my nipples and I moan loudly as I feel her warm mouth cover one through the lace of my bra. This is beyond my wildest imaginings but it is not one of my dreams.

There was no way I'm going going to stop this if it is what Miranda wants. As she flips the button of my trousers, I grab her hand and place it against the radiating heat of my pussy.

Instinct takes over and Miranda glides her hand beneath the elastic of my panties. She is still fully clothed as she slips a finger through my wetness.

"Ahn-drey-aaaah." The moaning of my name acts as a wake-up call.

There is no way I am going to let this woman top me. I flip us and tug at Miranda's Diane von Furstenberg Sanorah Silk Crepe De Chine Blouse. It tears and I feel a sense of satisfaction as Miranda's breasts, in the off-white padded La Perla push-up bra, are exposed to my eyes. I let them roam over her hungrily.

"Ahn-drey-aaaah." She moans again. "That was a three hundred dollar blouse."

"I don't care," I whisper before trailing my lips over the top of her breasts.

"Ahn-drey-aaaah." Miranda arches into my lips and her fingers brush my clit.

"How many times do you think you'll scream my name tonight, Miranda?" I whisper teasingly against her skin. "Should I keep count?"

Miranda's free hand entwines into my hair and she pulls me up. I moan and kiss her again, taking care not to bump our noses. She enters me with two fingers and moves them in and out as her thumb makes a circular motion on my clit. She continues to kiss me, her tongue dancing delicately against mine until I'm breathless.

Oh shit, it feels so good. I can feel my muscles tighten, a sure sign I'm going to orgasm. My thigh is between her legs, pressing down as I move against her, pulling her fingers deeper inside me. Miranda picks up speed and soon I rocket over the edge with a keening wail of her name.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" I ask when I get my breath back.

Miranda is flushed and her breathing is a little ragged. Looking at her, I see her eyes have darkened. "Ahn-drey-aaaah," she whispers. "You are beautiful."

"No, you are," I tell her. "Now it's my turn to please you," I slide down Miranda's body and spread her legs apart and start to lick. The taste of her is amazing. I swirl my tongue against the straining bungle of nerves and realise Miranda is chanting my name almost breathlessly.

I suck Miranda's clit making her buck uncontrollably against me. Both her hands are in my hair and she tugs ineffectually. I place a finger inside her and thrust it in and while I lick. I feel her tense under me and smile. Two seconds later her body is quaking against me, screaming my name. I move up and kiss her to quieten her down and she returns my kiss, whimpering my name against my lips.

Miranda's eyes blaze open and we stare at each other. Her eyes hold a hint of awe. "So, how many times did I scream your name?" her voice is hoarse and sexy as hell.

I can't hold back my grin. "Fourteen." I feel a little smug.

"Mm, we shall have to see if you can improve on that," Miranda challenges.

My smile widens. "Challange accepted." I snare Miranda's lips in another kiss and she moans. "I plan to spend the night doing just that, and tomorrow night, and the one after. Every night, for all eternity."

"Oh, Ahn-drey-aaaah," Miranda mutters as I pin her hands above her head.

"One," I whisper, tickling her ear. Her breath catches and I chuckle as I glance down at her.

I tell myself that I will love this woman so she has no option but to give me tonight, tomorrow night and all the rest of our nights, for all of our lives.

**fin**


End file.
